Slide
by Neahrai
Summary: A reimagining of the movie plot and, perhaps, beyond. Kirk/McCoy/Spock with Spock mpreg. If it squicks you, please don't bother clicking on the link. Rated T for language, rating might go up.
1. Chapter 1

**Slide**

Spock S'Chn T'Gai

He does not react to Stonn's push, numb as the taller boy's hand slides from his chest as if afraid to be contaminated. Spock cannot even be sure that he is reacting to the inappropriate taunts of his peers, as the roaring of his pulse has nearly drowned them out.

He supposes he is still "raw", as his mother would say, from last night's discussion with his father. Spock had finally succumbed to his curiosity over the difference between male and female Vulcans and how, exactly, that particular difference allowed their species to beget children. Sarek had told him that Spock differed from either gender, taking into account his willful Human DNA.

Spock was not surprised, but dismayed and aware. Aware of yet another way in which he differed from his peers, as if his overly strong telepathy was not enough.

Acutely aware of the third opening he possessed that other Vulcan boys did not.

That other Human boys _did not_.

That rawness - that awareness that he would never, could never belong in either world - that was enough. Enough to garner a reaction last night as well as today. To have Stonn rub that lonely knowledge in his face? That was more than enough for Spock to _react_, following the slide of the taller boy's body into the education pod.

Following the slide from stoic tenacity to manic rage.

James T. Kirk

Flying in mid-air, Jimmy feels his emotions slide from crazy, angry defiance to calm, dim resignation and knows he is going to die. He almost _feels_, rather than sees or hears, the beautiful, cherry-red classic slide into the dusty narrow canyon as he slams to the ground and almost mimics the car. Almost, but not quite. He supposes he is too stubborn.

The car had to go, and so it did, albeit with a bit of help.

Jimmy understands - well, understood Frank's passion when it came to the Stingray, he really did. A '67 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray from the 21st in near mint condition? Jimmy'd be all over that. Well, technically, he'd just _been_ all over that. And just look what'd happened. He snorts as he mentally probes himself for injuries. Hanging off the side of a cliff with and achy wrist aside, it could've been worse.

He could be dead, like he'd planned.

The car hadn't been Frank's. It wasn't Mom's or Sam's. Hell, it wasn't even little _Jimmy's_, barely tall enough to see through the windshield. But it was all they had left of the father Mom wouldn't talk about, and Jimmy'd _die_ before he washed it and put it up for auction like it was some worthless old show horse put to stud. Or rather, the Stingray would "die" and Jimmy would keep on keeping' on, hence the current mad scramble onto horizontal ground.

Jimmy continues his scramble upright as official boots step into his line of sight. All thoughts of not dying slide from his mind as his gaze slides likewise from the wreckage to the rent-a-robo-cop standing tall in front of Jimmy.

Mom is going to kill him, skin him, and set him on _fire_.

Not necessarily in that order.

Leonard H. McCoy

Joss looks like she wants to skin him alive.

Leonard supposes his guess ain't quite that far from the truth as he slides his gaze from his soon-to-be-ex-wife (who's giving him The Look that says he's done something and will die for it) to the innocuous PADD that symbolizes the disastrous, DEFCON 1 level wreckage their marriage has become. And, according to the PADD, good ol' country-bred Dr. Lenny McCoy _will_ die if he doesn't get his triflin' behind outta Georgia.

His once-sweet wife has turned a classic case of Workaholic Husband into a twisted tale that reeks with emotional neglect (and therefore, abuse), suspicions of an affair, and all sorts of other things that sit rotten at the back of Leonard's throat.

He knows in his soul that everyone else she brings this to'll see it the same way, taste that same foul sludge resting on their tongues.

Lenny doesn't even have the strength to point out the real-live, _non_-speculative infidelity on Jocelyn's part, bone-tired as he is. Clay Treadway, in-friggin-_deed_. Either way, he knows he'd better get the heck outta Dodge, because the town gossips'll ensure he'll find no peace, respect, nor even work here in his own goddamned hometown.

Lenny stares at his bitter Josey and wonders if he'll ever truly be able to hate her, but he quickly turns his thoughts away, and they slide roughshod over an escape he'd hate if it didn't seem to be his only one.


	2. Chapter 2

**I probaly forgot to mention, but Joanna has not been born yet and Spock is younger than Kirk and McCoy, for the sake of this story.**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Slide<span>**

* * *

><p><span>Spock<span>

Spock's mind, genius though it is, slides in an inescapable loop over the council's careless, implied insult.

He stares into the elderly Vulcan's face and contemplates hatred. His mouth says _Dif-tor heh smusa_, but his mind and his figurative heart say _Consume feces and perish in a conflagration. _He vaguely wonders if his mother would be surprised at his inherited vehemence.

Regardless, he is enlisting in Starfleet, where they will better appreciate his unique genetic make up.

He slides his fingers into an effortless _ta'al_ and dismisses the council as they dismiss him.

* * *

><p><span>Jim<span>

Jim feels his aching bones slide against each other as he shakes his head dismissively at the distinguished old bastard in front of him.

Jim knows Winona'd be more than surprised at Pike's insistence he fill his old man's shoes. Murderous, maybe. He wants the man to stop talking to him, moves the conversation along so that he does. Once home, he considers his options.

Stay "home" with a woman who'd never seemed to love him enough, or find a new home in space.

Where intergalactic women would love him any way he wanted.

_Starfleet it is,_ he thinks, and slides onto his ride.

* * *

><p><span>Leonard<span>

Len had known from the moment his standard-issue boots slid onto the shuttle that this was one of his worst ideas yet.

His heart and mind had said "Run", and his feet had taken him to Starfleet, of all places. Now he'd gone from one spiteful, self-righteous woman who'd given him a nonverbal dressing down that banished him from Earth itself, to another self-righteous woman half his size cowing him into a seat on an airborne deathtrap set to take him to a space borne deathtrap. Sweet Jesus.

Len slides into a seat next to some cocksure bastard and wonders why he'd thought to try and call space home.

* * *

><p><span>Spock<span>

Spock nearly slides to a seat on the floor as he catches sight of the two cadets striding into the simulator and does not know why.

He feels as he felt when he was bonded to T'Pring and Savik at age 7; his mind nearly hums in anticipation of something intangible. He cannot describe what it is his mind wants, because he is not sure. He files this feeling away for later analysis, in favor of irritation and curiosity as he witnesses the blond cadet cheating on his test.

The other observing professor asks him an inane question and he answers likewise as his gaze slides from the arrogant blond and the indignant brunette to the student roster.

* * *

><p><span>Jim<span>

Jim lets his eyes slide from the Vulcan professor's retreating back to his own clenched fists on the podium before him.

He wants to stay angry at the callous words Professor Spock had said. He wants to, but something about the look on Spock's face won't let him. The vulnerability there'd erased the severity and superiority and, for the first time since meeting the professor, Jim actually believes that Spock is younger than him. He believes that Spock really does feel, no matter how he denies it.

Jim tells himself it's curiosity and indignant entitlement, rather than protectiveness, that makes him determined to slide into space with Spock.


	3. Chapter 3

**I am sorry to have been away for so long! I was out of the country with sickness and could not send the story to my person who works the computer and helps me to make things in better English. :(**

**I am much better now and I very much want to thank everyone who has Favorited, followed, or reviewed the story as it is very much inspiring and makes me to be very happy! I am going and replying right now to the reviews, but I cannot really understand my computer so well as to get back to everyone, so know that I appreciate that.**

**As thank you for your patience, this chapter is very long, although it is also second to last. After this story is over, I will be working on three new ones, one is a sequel, and which will appear a week after the last chapter does itself.**

**Tot zi/bedankt!**

**Nea**

**Slide**

* * *

><p><span>Leonard<span>

* * *

><p>Leonard slides past the unfortunate ensign, dragging a sweaty, jelly-legged Jim after him. Now, Leonard isn't stupid. He knows bringing Jim along could - and probably would - do more harm than good. But the dejected slope of his best - to be honest, only - friend's shoulders had drawn him back, sure as a sorry old fly to an irritating, arrogant, self-serving cowpie.<p>

So, now here they are, and Leonard's awe at the sight of the space hub had worn off. The tension has his body humming like a damned cicada, almost as sweaty and unsteady as his idiot best friend. And aren't they just a right pair, stagger-stepping their way to sickbay so Leonard can put a whole round of useless concoctions into Jim (And, honestly, vent some frustration).

Unfortunately, Jim's ability to gripe and whine long and loud was freakishly, raucously, _annoyingly_ unparalleled. McCoy rolls his eyes, ignoring the obnoxious protests as he jabs Jim with a sedative and waits for his eyes (and mouth) to slide shut.

* * *

><p><span>Jim<span>

* * *

><p>[…lightning storm.]<p>

Jim sits up and his eyes slide open on the way. His mouth is moving before his brain can get over the fact that it suddenly has to start working. And when his brain _does_ catch up to the rest of him, it signals to his stomach that now is the time to detach itself and plummet down to rest among his intestines.

He's thinking too fast and dreading too much to bitch about Bones drastically altering the size of his hands (although, what kind of doctor _does_ that?), and by the time he's wobbled his way down to confer with Uhura, he couldn't if he wanted to.

And Bones running around and stabbing him repeatedly like a friggin' mosquito is Not Helping.

He's mentally crossing his fingers and repeating "no-win scenarios don't exist" and shying away from the memory of his father and the _last_ "lightning storm" in space when the doors to the bridge slide open.

Showtime.

* * *

><p><span>Spock<span>

* * *

><p>When the bridge doors slide open and admit Cadets McCoy and Kirk, Spock's emotions flounder between irritation and irrational excitement. Irritation almost wins out, but he is allowed to choose neither as Kirk brings to the bridge's attention a terrifying possibility.<p>

Spock is inclined to disagree with the cadet, but even as they speak he feels a flash of alarm and dread thrumming across the familial bond he shares with his mother.

Her apprehension is such that, even if Kirk had not proved himself with evidence, Spock would have believed him forthwith. He had not felt fear like this from his mother, and faintly echoed by his father, since he had been lost in the Desert as a young child.

So he states that Kirk's claim is logical, because it is, although Spock had not truly been listening with his full capabilities.

He looks down as he feels a sharp pain from his hands, and finds that his fingers have curled into tight fists of their own volition. Try as he may, he cannot do much more than loosen his grip enough that he is not in immediate danger of cutting his palms. Spock resigns himself to a tension filled ride as their pilot slides the correct lever and finally takes them to maximum warp.

* * *

><p><span>Leonard<span>

* * *

><p>As the <em>Enterprise<em> drops out of warp, Leonard stumbles and almost slides his hand down a panel of important-looking controls. He can barely _breathe_, his body is so locked up from shock and _terror_.

The _ships_ - every ship Starfleet'd sent out but theirs had been obliterated. The _Enterprise_ was left dodging asteroids, starship debris, and, very likely, frozen corpses. Leonard feels ill. Screw aviatophobia; he reckons he'd be petrified even without it. And he's trying - Leonard is trying very, _very_ hard not to start hyperventilating and make a horrible situation worse. Much worse. So he tries to tune out and pretend he's home in pre-Hellfire Georgia.

But life hasn't been kind to Leonard so far - in fact, it's been a downright ornery bitch, straight dropping giant shitstorms in his lap. And so, Much Worse comes ripping into the picture like a bull in a china shop with paper walls and a 90-year-old osteoporosis patient manning the blown-glass cash register.

A disgustingly, terrifyingly large ship - scary to the edge of ridiculousness - is sliding out of a black hole right in front of their dinky little first class rocket ship. A black hole. A _black hole_. That is Leonard's cue to leave. Now.

* * *

><p><span>Spock<span>

* * *

><p>Spock is panicking. Quietly. Silently.<p>

Starships are not meant to just slide through singularities. _Nothing_ is meant to do so. And the monstrosity that is flagrantly disregarding this apparently not-so-fundamental rule is more abomination than starship.

He can feel his mother's panic and frustration and his father's suppressed apprehension, which leads him to believe that they are meditating in the Katric Arc, as is tradition. Dangerously time-consuming tradition. And Spock cannot possibly help them right now, as the _Enterprise_ and her crew are now faced with a psychopath that is determined to repeat a history he'd created.

For some reason, Spock draws the angry Romulan's attention. He knows Spock. _Nero_ knows Spock.

Spock, who has somehow managed to grievously offend someone he has never met, examines the situation and is not sure how to feel.

This man has made him responsible for Cadet Kirk's father's death. As though the insensitive words he had said not even half a day ago, flustered as he was to be speaking with one who had such an effect on him, where not enough.

And now this Nero would have him bear both witness to and blame for the destruction of his home planet and the possible torture and certain death of his mentor and captain, Pike.

Spock will not be held accountable for this.

He _can_ not do so - he does not know how to shoulder this burden.

It is too heavy for him to bear alone.

Pike has made him captain, as he has never wanted.

This is too heavy for him.

Spock allows himself a moment - scant milliseconds - to let his eyes slide closed and a breath to escape his lungs, and tells himself that everything will be alright.

His mother tells him always that he could run away to join the circus and she would still be proud and love him.

This is not the circus, and there is much more at stake than the approval of an audience, but he can understand and appreciate her meaning: everything will be fine, as she would say.

And so, everything will be fine.

* * *

><p><span>Jim<span>

* * *

><p>Jim takes deep, even, excited breaths as he contemplates a free fall from the upper atmosphere of a planet. In theory, it is easy. In theory, it is also terrifying.<p>

In actuality, it is extremely uncomfortable, but the still non-air cradles him, and he feels his eyes trying to slide shut. He takes another deep breath to counteract the pressure of entering Vulcan's atmosphere.

When he opens his eyes and lets out the breath (in a yell, because he's excited, and why not?), it's time to open his chute. It's also, apparently, time to panic.

And so he panics. He does so for the next five minutes. He doesn't do so well with allies dying pointlessly.

Fighting, though - fighting is something Jim does _very_ well.

And so he fights. He's reminded of the bar fight that started his career with Starfleet. Jim'd always wondered how things would've gone if he'd had a friend at his back, instead of a bunch of pissed-off townies plenty willing to stand by and smugly watch him get the shit kicked out of him. And now he knows.

Hikaru Sulu is _awesome_ backup - Jim's initial skepticism of fencing's practical usefulness aside. Jim knows a future best-friend when he sees one, and Sulu has potential to be _fabulous_.

Good enough to leap after and take another - decidedly less safe - free-fall over Vulcan?

Sure, why not? It'll be like base jumping.

He rethinks that answer when his parachute snaps off and they're really freefalling, and suddenly the air rushing past him is no longer comforting or exhilarating.

And now he's panicking again.

Rather than slow down, time seems to be speeding up, along with their bodies. And it's moving too fast for whoever the hell is working the transporter to save them.

For the second time since birth, Jim is absolutely certain he is about to die. This time, though, he is decidedly less calm and accepting. He braces himself for impact even as he hopes for salvation, squeezing his eyes shut as he hits the ground.

And he's not dead. Jim is dazed, to say the least; everything has just been dipped in surreality.

He's rising from the transporter pad and an awkward embrace with his new best friend and he's alive and he's two steps from giddy, adrenaline-fueled laughter when Spock slides past him looking like someone's kicked his puppy and is now about to set it on fire, bury it in concrete, and sink it in an acid pit.

All of a sudden, everything is Not Okay, and Jim can't for the life of himself figure out why he feels like his world is ruined and won't be fixed until Spock no longer looks like that.

* * *

><p><span>Spock<span>

* * *

><p>"Fine" is an imprecise term with variable definitions.<p>

For the third time since learning the importance of emotional balance and restraint, Spock is not entirely sure of the effectiveness of his outward emotional control.

Possibly the fourth. Spock cannot be sure.

Even the brief, unintentional slide of skin against skin as he passes Kirk is not enough to quell the sense of foreboding and rising sorrow that he is barely suppressing.

Spock knows that his planet is falling apart - he saw it begin from the relative safety of the _Enterprise_ - and so he prepares himself for this reality on the transporter platform. He steels himself mentally and physically for both the possible need to dodge falling debris and the sure-to-be devastating sight of his home's destruction, and beams down despite Cadet Kirk's negligible protests. There is no time to present his argument concerning the matter, and so Spock lets his actions serve as an irrefutable counter. He descends to the planet and is immediately sprinting, using his effusive panic to fuel his adrenaline.

Time seems to flow inconsistently from that point on. It takes eons to reach his parents in the Arc, and to convince the elders to evacuate. It takes split seconds to make it outside, and then there is a relief that lasts only a moment as he turns to ensure his mother's safety. Spock feels he stares at the fearful, sorrowful, _resigned _expression on Amanda Grayson-S'Chn T'Gai's face for an eternity.

In the next moment, she is gone and Spock is kneeling on the floor reaching for the last person in existence who loved him unconditionally.

She is gone.

_His mother is gone._


	4. Chapter 4

**I am sorry for the wait and the "false chapter"! I had some editing to do! As apologie, 2 chapters! (although they are short...)**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 4<span>**

* * *

><p><span>Jim<span>

* * *

><p>Jim has seen planets sucked into black holes before.<p>

It happens quickly. In seconds – milliseconds – the planets were gone. They seemed to stretch until they were too tight; until the strain was too much. And then they would just slide into non-existence. They were gone, and all in a matter of moments.

This – the collapse of Vulcan – is nothing like that.

This is slow. Torturous.

This particular black hole is destroying much more than soil and the laws of physics.

It takes six full minutes for the planet to collapse upon itself. Spock is present for the last three, and Jim watches Spock watch his planet – his home – crumble into nothing.

Spock is crumbling, too, though it's just a ripple under the surface.

Then Spock updates the ship's log with no hint of any sorrow – or really any emotion at all – and Jim wonders if he didn't imagine it all as his mind slides carefully around the image of Spock's devastated form slumped over on the transporter pad. He turns his gaze away, mentally and physically.

[I am now a member of an endangered species.]

* * *

><p><span>Leonard<span>

* * *

><p>Leonard slides his gaze to the side, avoiding the sight of the shell-shocked Vulcans silently drifting around the sickbay's makeshift triage center.<p>

Leonard has never wanted to stay hidden away from the medicinal lull of sickbay more than he does at this moment. He wants to cloister himself in his deceased predecessor's office until space stops being everything he never even thought to fear it would be, but now is not that time for him.

For Leonard, now is the time to deeply and tightly lock away his terror and use the leftover adrenaline to help the Vulcan refugees. Their pain and sorrow and terror are much more potent than his, almost tangible.

They are also much, much more dangerous.

Prolonging this state of mental distress will slowly kill off what few Vulcans are left, beginning with the weakest: infants and elders. The catastrophically harshly snapped bonds would fester and curdle in their minds until it destroyed them by way of slow brain death, insanity, or suicide.

Luckily for the survivors – and Leonard – most of the Vulcan Mind Healers survived, and all Leonard has to do – all he _can_ do – is shield them from his emotions and provide pain inhibitors for those still lying in wait to be healed.

Spock's voice, sliding though the electrical channels of the ship-wide log, reminds Leonard that there is still one Vulcan survivor who hasn't sought out any sort of medical help yet. He heads towards the bridge, leaving medical conn to Chapel for the moment.

[I am now a member of an endangered species.]

This might be harder, Leonard thinks, than just rudimentary emotional shielding.

* * *

><p><span>Spock<span>

* * *

><p>A black hole has been created inorganically at the center of the planet Vulcan, resulting in its destruction.<p>

This is a fact.

This situation, given current available technology, is – or should be – impossible.

This is also a fact.

His mother, T'Pring, and later, Savik, have perished along with his planet.

This is an unbearable, untouchable fact.

The guilt for these events lies solely on Spock's shoulders, even if only by a madman's command.

Spock is trying not to see this as a fact.

[I am now a member of an endangered species.]

He needs to get off of the bridge before he can no longer leave it of his own power.

He avoids Nyota's questioning look as he slides into the lift, only to run into another problem.

[Spock?]

Of course, it is Cadet-turned-CMO McCoy who he finds in his desire to lose everyone. Spock cannot even muster annoyance, that strange anticipation, or any other emotion.

McCoy asks him what he needs and he almost scoffs at him.

What he needs is nothing that anyone can give him. He chooses to ignore the doctor. This is apparently the wrong decision, as McCoy is suddenly grasping Spock's face with gentle hands and calling his name, brow furrowed in concern.

[What do you need?]

Spock's shields have weakened further than he had allowed himself to notice.

A humid, heavy heat floods his mind and he catches a glimpse of green. Trees and grass. New things. It is not Vulcan, arid and barren, but it is the warmest he has been since he even boarded the ship and then it is gone and he needs it back.

Needs it back so desperately that when Leonard asks him again what he needs, Spock slides his own hands to the doctor's face and presses their foreheads together in the hopes that physical closeness will translate into mental.

He catches a glimpse in Leonard's mind of their lips touching. Though he feels guilty for neglecting his shields, he also remembers his mother saying that that form of contact is defined as a Human kiss. As it is more versatile than Vulcan intimacy – of which Spock is aware that he is "toeing the line" – a Human kiss can be shared between family, friends, or lovers.

This memory also reminds him that he has lost both family and would-be lovers today and he has not had friends before or since Nyota and then he's pressing his lips against Leonard's and his mind is full of warmth and nature and he is not sure which kind of kiss he is looking for, or even why he has carried out this impulse.

And then it does not matter, because Leonard is kissing him like a lover and holding him like a friend and stroking his hair like his mother occasionally does. Did.

It is too much and it is not enough and it is _too much_.

Leonard parts from him and asks if this is what he needs and Spock feels shocked awake.

He tries to tell himself and Leonard that no, it is not what he needs; that function and order will fix what is broken in him, and escapes the lift through doors that are sliding open too slowly for him.


	5. Chapter 5

**I feel I should say that I have not forgotten about Jim! I just want to focus on Len and Spock because they are a tad harder to put together... **

**Next chapter out soon!  
><strong>

**TZB!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<br>**

* * *

><p><span>Leonard<span>

* * *

><p>The doors to the turbolift slide open and shut behind Spock before Leonard has completely processed the fact that <em>he just kissed Spock<em>. And enjoyed it. Very much. Oh, dear God.

So much, in fact, that he misses a good part of Spock and Jim's tit fit because he's too busy getting his body to realize that now is _not_ the time for "enjoyment". He's also busy wondering what the fuck just happened. Random acts of passion, as far as Leonard knows, were not in Spock's repertoire.

When he finally _does _get to the bridge, he has trouble deciding who to yell at. After all, while Jim may be his best and only friend, he and Leonard haven't kissed like that (lately, considering that one time in New Vegas).

Then, of course, Spock makes that decision for him by marooning Jim on a barely habitable ice planet.

Well, allrighty, then.

To be fair, Leonard can understand the urge, but he can't help but feel like their best hope at having _some_ control over this fiasco just went sliding off the ship.

* * *

><p><span>Spock<span>

* * *

><p>Of course, Acting First Officer Kirk does not allow Spock to find the order he seeks.<p>

In fact, Kirk seeks to cause the opposite; seeks to send Spock's control sliding away from him.

Now is not and will never be the time to provoke Spock, tenuous as his mind's _everything_ is, although he supposes it could be seen as an advantageous period – one in which he is emotionally floundering – by a particularly harsh tactician or combat specialist. Spock reigns in his wandering thoughts.

Spock's shields refuse to rally themselves from their useless heap on the floor of his mental landscape, and so he can feel Kirk's self-righteous anger, the discomfort of the bystanders on the bridge, and even Leonard's confusion and arousal, sequestered in the turbolift.

And Spock is weary, so weary of being in charge, of trying to cope with others' emotions as he struggles to maintain control of his own. He is pitifully aware that he has not even given any actual orders, merely reiterated Pike's last ones.

Then, as Spock finally has had enough and called security, Kirk's blaring emotions suddenly and drastically calm, lifting a portion of the stress in Spock's mind. Like his prior vehemence was an illusion, Kirk walks away. Or rather, is dragged away. Although vocally protesting his forced expulsion, Kirk is almost completely silent emotionally.

Spock has less than a moment to feel relieved before his world explodes into pain.

It takes him a short while – and all of his meager control – to realize that it is not his own pain. When he finds that the pain is emanating from the security officers he'd called, Spock is livid. Or is Nyota? Leonard? Spock does not know, but he _does_ know that that cacophony of mental activity will soon cause him to weaken drastically in terms of telepathic and emotional stability, and so he does the only thing he can think to do.

He is not entirely sure whether he ordered Jim completely off the ship out of self-preservation or due to borrowed spite. Either way, Kirk must be kept away from him. He makes the veil in Spock's mind – between him and the darkness – thinner every second of his presence. He feels a glimmer of satisfaction as the small escape pod slides across the viewscreen and wonders whom it belongs to.


	6. Chapter 6

Jim

* * *

><p>[I am Spock]<p>

He'd thought, as he slid across the icy threshold to the cave he is currently recovering in, that someone with a sick sense of humour might be testing his belief in no-win scenarios. Whoever it was, they'd put Jim through pub-fights with military trained meatheads and _really_ mean finger-stomping Romulans. And now they'd had him chased by big beasts followed by bigger beasts with _way _too many eyes.

And now, Jim thinks they are testing his belief – or ability to do so – in general.

The word slides out – beyond his capacity for respecting his elders.

[Bullshit]

* * *

><p>Leonard<p>

* * *

><p>[Are you outta your Vulcan mind?!]<p>

He slides quickly into the space between Spock and retreat. If Spock won't allow himself to be psychoanalysed in the privacy of sickbay, Leonard supposes he can evaluate Spock right out in the open.

Leonard expects to be satisfied with his eval. He is not. Spock is, on the surface, every bit the perfect Vulcan. Calm, unemotional – a blank slate. Normally, Leonard would be okay with that. Normally. Right now, however, he has three dead Vulcans in his sickbay, and seven more who have progressed to the point where all they do is stare into the middle distance.

They had seemed perfectly fine, as well. Because the healers had been too busy helping the obviously injured, the ten had been lost to suicide or brain damage. And what's worse, the telepathic trauma is killing parts of the brain that Leonard can reach by no means of his own, and Spock's mind is definitely different from all other Vulcans'.

Leonard doesn't know what to do outside of forcibly sedating Spock and dragging him to medical. He's considering this option when Spock slides away, avoiding "capture".

[Green-blooded hobgoblin...]

* * *

><p>Spock<p>

* * *

><p>[You NEVER loved her!]<p>

_**RAGE.**_

**RAGE RAGE**_ shock _**RAGE**_ remorse _**RAGE **confusion_ I'm sorry _**RAGE **_Spock please _should we **RAGE **stop them _sorry_ what is going on **RAGE **fear _concern _**RAGE RAGE RAGE **someone

stop them

_**RAGE RAGE RAGERAGERAGE Spock RAGE I had to WHY please WHY Spock WHYWHYWHY can't WHYWOULDYOUDOTHIS breathe WHYAREYOUDOINGTHIS Spock PAIN Spock ICANNOT I can't ICANNOT PAIN breathe ICANNOTDOTHIS pain TOOMUCHPAINPAIN pain Spock SHIELD Spock stop NOSHIELD Spock **__surprise __**CANNOTSHIELD Spock NONONO **__My son __**NOLIGHT Spock **__Can you hear me? __**DARKDARKDARK whitingout PAIN Spock head hurts **__Spock __**HURTSHURTSHELP Spock **__Calm yourself __**Stop HURTS STOP **__Spock __**FEAR Spock **__Stop this __**Stop **__at once __**Spock **__Spock __**SpockSpockstop **__Spock __**letgoletgoletgo STOP**_

[Spock!]


	7. Chapter 7

**Soooo. I suggest reading this note, and then going back one chapter. This is a twofer.**

**We're not dead! Our two-person collab has been going through a rock period, but we're back. No in-fighting; it's just that I moved countries and Jael was very very ill. So. This story will end at this last chapter, with a preview of the sequel coming out soon. I hope you all enjoyed, despite the long (completely unannounced) hiatus, and we love you all.**

**Also: the "coward's way" comment later on? We do hope y'all know we're not trying to put that on anyone. We've had some experience with said way, and have only learned from it.**

* * *

><p>Spock<p>

* * *

><p>Weak.<p>

That is how he feels.

His body can barely keep from sliding to a faint on the transporter room floor.

His mind...

He is trying not to think about the state that his mind is in.

_Rage, previously sliding slowly into his mind, suddenly floods his _everything_,_ _and he is no longer in control._

Or his father.

_He cannot gain control of his body or his mind._

He cannot control his own thoughts.

For the first time in several years, Spock is forced to literally bite his tongue to keep from yelling – screaming – at his father. His original response to Spock's query had _defined_ Spock's entire life, and now Sarek admits that he had _lied_?

_[It was logical.]_

Spock is no less conflicted than he was before he happened upon his father. Possibly more so.

Nevertheless, he understands his duty as Pike's former Acting XO. He will bring him back. He will save him.

Though his mind slides away from the possibility of extending that same duty unto himself.

* * *

><p>Jim<p>

* * *

><p>Spock slides into place on the transporter pad beside Jim, suddenly over trying to kill his subordinate cum superior.<p>

Jim is glad for it. He's always been shit at apologies.

What he's not glad for is the way Uhura – Nyota – clings to Spock before they go, acting the proper concerned girlfriend. She gives him a single longer-than-a-peck-shorter-than-a-kiss on the lips before she turns to go and it _burns _him, somehow. He supposes he hadn't realised how much he liked Uhura. Nyota. Whatever.

Then, as if to rub it in, Spock wants _Jim_ to deliver some secret message to Uhura if they die. No fucking way. Jim'll make sure they survive just so that he won't have to play messenger for Mr McHotty Pants. Nevermind he's being overconfident. And childish. He absolutely _hates_ that kicked kitten look in Spock's eyes.

It galls him, and he uses that anger against every Romulan asshole he comes across as he slides ever closer to his goal.

* * *

><p>Spock<p>

* * *

><p>He realises that the Jellyfish will not defeat the Romulan ship with fire power alone and feels relief.<p>

His mind, though isolated from all others, is still confused, sliding frantically in search of surer purchase than he can provide.

He does not wish to live the rest of his life like this.

He does not wish to choose "the coward's way".

This way is better. Best.

Let his death serve a purpose greater than his life.

Spock feels all tension slide from his frame as he plots a sure collision course with Nero's ship.

* * *

><p>[Am I to follow my emotions or my logic?]<p>

[Follow your heart, Spock. Mine has never lead me astray.]


End file.
